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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929062">The difference between them</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kostia/pseuds/kostia'>kostia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode: s04e01 Dead Guy in Room 4, Episode: s04e06 Open Mic, Episode: s05e01 The Crowening, Episode: s05e13 The Hike, Idiots in Love, M/M, saccharine sweetness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:00:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929062</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kostia/pseuds/kostia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick and David observe things about each other that seem impossible.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>154</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The difference between them</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The spark of this is in early season 4, really first visible at the end of S4E02, Dead Guy in Room 4, when an absolutely still Patrick kisses a flailing David.  So it came from there.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was so <em>still.</em></p>
<p>David couldn’t quite comprehend it. It was like Patrick put his body in a place, and his body just <em>stayed</em> there. No fidgeting, no ridiculous hands waving in the air. None of the things David a little bit hated about his own personal visual brand. None of the things David a little bit hated that everyone could see. None of the things that said <em>odd</em> or <em>queer</em>—the things David knew he screamed with his mouth closed, in places where screaming those things was celebrated and in places where screaming those things was risky.</p>
<p>Patrick didn’t scream. Patrick whispered. Patrick whispered <em>thank you, David</em> and <em>I know</em> and spoke loudly with no words at all. Patrick whispered <em>secure</em> and <em>solid </em>and <em>safe.</em> That was the difference between them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was <em>always</em> in motion.</p>
<p>Patrick couldn’t quite keep him in focus. It was like David spoke with his mouth, his eyes, his hair, and his hands all at once. Thank goodness his clothes were always black and white, or there would be so many places to look that Patrick would have to close his eyes. Even without color, he was so afraid he’d miss something. Something so different, so unique, so completely unlike anything he’d seen before. Something that transported him to a place he wanted to belong.</p>
<p>David yelled to the world, even with his lips closed in one of his unsure little half-smiles. David called out <em>brave</em> and <em>unique</em> and <em>special.</em> Patrick knew that he didn’t call out. Patrick only muttered. Patrick muttered consistent things, things like <em>boring</em> and <em>business</em> and <em>blue.</em> That was the difference between them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>David knew what Patrick had thought at first, about the black and white clothes being a blessing because there’d be too much to look at otherwise. He started sprinkling in some color from then on, admitting silently to himself that he was teasing Patrick. It was his turn to tease.</p>
<p>When he heard him sing “my heart’s on fire” it was all he could do not to laugh with shocked delight amid his relief at Patrick’s obvious talent. How did this exasperating man keep surprising him? He wouldn’t change it for the world.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Patrick was bowled over when David arrived at the store for the open mic night wearing a sweater that <em>wasn’t</em> black and white. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sing the song. He wasn’t sure he could look at that sweater—<em>fire, why did it have to be fire</em>—and say “language of love” or “wild and wired.” Let alone the very first line, “my heart’s on fire.”</p>
<p>It was frightening in the best way. He wouldn’t change it for the world.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“David, I lied! In Need of a Generator is, like, the only answer you can get.”</p>
<p>That bitch. David <em>knew</em> the quiz had been rigged. He had been sure of it. In need of a generator? The way he and Patrick were together was amazing. It was like nothing he’d had before. They were nowhere near needing a generator. Sometimes they needed a cold shower. Sometimes they needed a walk-in freezer. Stupid Alexis and her stupid way of getting under his skin. If he lived through this, he’d make sure she paid.</p>
<p>But next to her was Patrick, and Patrick actually looked <em>worried.</em> No one should worry about David. David didn’t deserve to be worried over. Now he was worried about Patrick. Patrick should not have that worried look on his face.</p>
<p>“I love our relationship,” he called. “I love it when you use words like <em>inventory</em>. I even love those stupid rubber things you put on your fingers.” Patrick needed to be reassured.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p><em>Anderson Cooper? </em>thought Patrick. It was <em>Anderson Cooper?</em> Best not to pull at that thread, maybe. If he needed something to be upset about, it was the rubber thimbles. They <em>did</em> help him flip the pages faster. But right now, David needed to be reassured.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>David couldn’t get the blanket to spread out, but he was feeling accomplished anyway. He had disinfected his boyfriend’s injury like a strong and gorgeous war nurse with improbably perfect hair. He had carried said boyfriend up an enormous mountain. He really felt he deserved the cheese, so he half-assed the blanket. It would be fine. When he pulled out the champagne, he was surprised, but pleasantly. He silently admitted to himself that he’d been hoping the <em>entire</em> backpack was full of cheese, but champagne would be acceptable.</p>
<p>”If you go into that front pocket there—”</p>
<p>Weird. The front pocket was too small to have more cheese in it.</p>
<p>Then he looked up, and Patrick was no longer sitting on a rock. Patrick was on one knee. And the world fell away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>David was going to say yes. Patrick could see it, even as he went through a modified version of the speech he’d been writing in his head for months. He couldn’t believe it was going this well. There had been a plan. There’d be a picnic, a champagne toast, kisses over this beautiful view. Maybe thirty selfies, to increase the chances of there being one David deemed acceptable.</p>
<p>But instead he had this. A hole in his foot, a piggy-back ride up the trail, a blanket more thrown on the ground than spread out. A champagne bottle precariously balanced on a rock. And this beautiful man, sobbing and laughing in front of him, holding the rings next to his hand and clearly already itching to put them on.</p>
<p>“And now, here he is, the love of my life. Standing in front of me.” It was a certifiable miracle.</p>
<p>When David asked, “Are you sure?” Patrick had to laugh. Because it really was the easiest decision of his life.</p>
<p>“It’s a yes, it’s a yes. I love you.” And the world fell away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are so strong,” David would say.</p>
<p>“I’m really not. You’re bigger than I am,” Patrick would reply.</p>
<p>“It has nothing to do with how many boxes you can move or how tightly you can hold me. It has to do with the way you’re <em>you.</em> You are so strong.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are so brave,” Patrick would whisper.</p>
<p>“I’m not,” David would reply. “I’m terrified most of the time.”</p>
<p>“It has nothing to do with whether you can tolerate heights or where you’ll happily wear a skirt. It has to do with the way you’re <em>you.</em> You are so brave.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Neither one of them could see in himself what he saw and loved in the other. But they both grew to know it was there, and eventually they both knew it was the best parts of them that the other loved. That was the difference between them … between them and the rest of the world.</p>
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